


camera shy

by unsungillumination



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Gladiolus Amicitia (mentioned), Noctis Lucis Caelum (mentioned) - Freeform, it's romantic if you squint and Let Me Tell You my eyes will not go narrower than this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungillumination/pseuds/unsungillumination
Summary: [FFXV SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 9 ONWARD]after he loses his sight, ignis begins to avoid prompto's camera.(a VERY belated birthday gift for Angyiel!)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angyiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angyiel/gifts).



> ~~camera shy more like camera sh-eye amirite~~  
>  angyie, i know you've already read this and that it's been literally months but HEY i'm glad you exist. happy late birthday again, my dude!
> 
> i agonised over this one for a loooong time. the problem with that is that i can no longer actually read it with any semblance of objectivity, so i'm honestly just trusting my friends' judgment here and going ahead and posting it anyway. it's not perfect, but i hope you like it!

   At first, Ignis had thought that perhaps nobody would notice if he simply faded out of the photographs.

   This, he supposed, had been foolish - after all, his absence in the evidence was evidence in itself and it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Prompto nudged his leg beside the campfire one night and said, “Hey, Iggy? You been ducking out of my shots lately?”

   Ignis paused, a can of Ebony halfway to his lips.

   “What makes you think that?” he asked.

   “Well - I mean,” Prompto stammered, “you aren’t _in_ any of them.” And he clicked through his camera a few times to demonstrate.

   A largely useless demonstration to Ignis. “Does it matter very much?”

   There was a ruffling sound, which he had come to associate with Prompto rubbing the back of his neck. “I just - well, I miss seeing you in them.” Prompto stopped abruptly, and Ignis imagined him flushing. “I mean, I know you - you probably also... miss... _uh_ -”

   “My apologies,” Ignis said shortly. “I would prefer you left me out of your photographs in the future. That’s all.”

   There was a brief pause, and then a small sigh. “Yeah,” said Prompto finally, “yeah, that’s - that’s cool. No problem.”

 

* * *

 

   Evidently, Prompto _did_ have a problem, because Ignis found it exponentially more difficult over the next few days to dodge his pictures. It hadn’t been a challenge to begin with; Prompto’s silences were surprisingly easy to read and the lull in his chatter that meant ‘raising and fiddling with the camera’ had become Ignis’ cue to duck out of the way or cover his face. But it seemed that, since discovering Ignis’ determination to exclude himself from the images, Prompto had become more determined to feature him. And Ignis was quickly discovering that a determined Prompto required somewhat more effort than expected to evade.

   Ignis was not entirely sure why he bothered with it at all.

   He was himself the first to admit that it didn’t make any particular logical sense; after all, _he_ could not see the photographs, and the ones who _could_ were also the ones who saw his face on the regular - so exactly why he would expend so much effort to avoid them was a question he could not properly answer.

   Perhaps it was a phantom fear. One of seeing himself as less than he ought to be, left over from a time when he could still anything at all. An itch on his mind, rather than his body, that he couldn’t scratch.

   All he knew was that of everything he had lost with his sight, the ability to look into the mirror at his own scarred face was one of the few that he hadn’t been sorry to lose.

   He touched his face and gritted his teeth against the scar - a blemish that, unfortunately, did not have to be seen to be believed.

 

* * *

 

_Prompto_

 

   So, _okay_ , maybe it was a bit of a jerk move to try and photograph someone who clearly didn’t want to be photographed. But in Prompto’s defense, his daily photo log just wasn’t _complete_ without Ignis. It felt wrong to travel in a group of four and only have records of three - as though Ignis didn’t exist at all.

   Prompto was an honest photographer. True to life. His pictures ought to represent things the way they really were. (And also chocobos, because chocobos were like, super cute.)

   And photographs that only ever included the back of Ignis’ head, or the side of his leg, or his hand over his face? That wasn’t the truth. That wasn’t the way things were. Ignis wasn’t a leg. He wasn’t even two legs. Maybe he was worth like, seven legs, stacked together - no - no, that was just disturbing.

   More to the point, Prompto missed seeing Ignis _smile_.

   He knew Ignis _did_ smile, they all knew it; rare though it might have been, it certainly used to _happen_. They’d all seen his face after Gladio had made a particularly soul-crushing pun, as he adjusted his glasses and pretended he wasn’t snickering behind his hand. Or when he finally succeeded in convincing Noct to eat one single leaf of lettuce - _that_ particular brand of smugness was impossible to miss.

   (Or even, on occasion, when Prompto himself managed to draw an actual laugh from him with some silly stunt or quip - although this had thus far gone undocumented, because Prompto was always stunned into paralysis when it happened and hadn’t ever yet managed to raise his camera in time.)

   Ignis used to smile for Prompto’s camera, too. Sometimes he’d even grin or raise a hand and wave at it.

   Used to.

   Since Leviathan - well, it had been a rare sight to see Ignis’ lips so much as twitch. And the only reason he raised his hand now was to cover his eyes, like he thought eyes should only be seen when they could return the favour.

   And Prompto kept hoping, beyond all reason, that perhaps if he could just catch Ignis off-guard with his lens, then he might startle a smile out of the man. Like if he yelled “SMILE!” abruptly enough, Ignis might do it out of surprise.

   So far, all he’d managed was a deeper scowl, before Ignis turned away once again.

   He’d - he’d keep trying. It would work eventually, and Prompto would see his friend smile again.

 

* * *

 

   _“Hey, Iggy! Smile!”_

_“...”_

_“...Aww. I was so close that time.”_

_“Prompto -”_

_“Yeah, yeah! I know you don’t want me to take any photos, but -”_

_“Then_ why _do you keep trying?!”_

_“...”_

_“...Prompto, I... I apologise. I didn’t mean to snap -”_

_“No, it’s - it’s cool. Heh... You’re right. I’m sorry, Iggy.”_

_“Prompto -”_

_“It’s cool! D-don’t sweat it, dude. I’ll stop, I promise. ...Sorry.”_

_“...”_

 

* * *

 

   Prompto stopped trying after a while.

   Ignis couldn’t see the photographs, of course, but he knew what was (or rather, what wasn’t) in them. He’d stopped having to duck the camera, he knew that much - and Prompto had stopped nudging him about it over dinner. Instead, he’d click through his camera with Noctis and Gladio, laughing over the sillier shots and occasionally describing the better ones to Ignis. There was no mention of his face, or of his presence, at all.

   A victory, certainly.

   Wasn’t it?

   …

   But _was_ it, when Prompto had lost the little bounce in his voice that used to appear when he suggested they take a group shot? When he now quietly warned Ignis that his camera was raised, to give him time to step away? When he apologised for accidentally catching the side of Ignis’ head in the corner of a photograph, as though it were a taboo, a crime, to even acknowledge that Ignis was there?

   Could Ignis, in good faith, count as a victory something that had made his friend sound so sad about something that was _supposed_ to bring him happiness?

   _“H-hey, Iggy… I’m - I’m gonna take a pic, okay? Over to your right…”_

_“Ah. Thank you for the warning.”_

_“Ah, heh… A-anytime, dude.”_

   …

   It had been a while now, since Leviathan. And truth be told, Ignis was growing used to waking up to the dark. Used to raising a hand to adjust his glasses (more out of habit than any sort of functionality, now) and feeling the rough skin beneath them - asymmetrical and twisted and a reminder of something he only ever needed help to forget.

   And though he flinched when he heard the listlessness in Prompto’s voice when he suggested they break for a photo stop, he would listen to them discussing the beautiful photos Prompto had taken across the campfire, and he couldn’t bring himself to mar the images the way the scar had marred his face.

   (Was he merely a scar on the team? He wondered - a reminder of a wound that wouldn’t heal, a part of them that would never again be the same.)

   Still, though his photos were surely nicer without Ignis in them, Prompto just sounded so _sad_.

 

* * *

 

   They helped him with dinner sometimes, since he couldn’t do it alone anymore. A sore point, maybe - but it wasn’t really so bad; they’d settled into an easy flow in the kitchen and even Noct was coming to know exactly where Ignis needed him and when (although he couldn’t be trusted to plate, or Gladio would find himself eating twice his normal share of vegetables that night).

   (Scratch that - _Ignis_ would find Gladio eating twice his normal share of vegetables, because Gladio would eat an entire Gaiatoad before he noticed anything was wrong.)

   It was actually kind of nice, if he was being honest. He had less to focus on, and it was a good time to think.

   To dwell on things, the way he was doing now.

   It was Prompto’s turn to help him tonight, and he was dutifully chopping potatoes as Ignis stirred the simmering sauce. Still, even as he carefully kept it just shy of bubbling over, thoughts and questions churned within his mind until he finally blurted, “Why does it matter so much to you that I appear in your photographs?”

   The sauce boiled over. The chopping sounds stopped.

   “W-what?”

   “Why does it matter so much to you?” repeated Ignis.

   There was a brief pause, and then Prompto gave a slightly startled laugh. “Well - I mean - you’re family, dude,” he said. “I - I don’t wanna remember all of this - _without_ you. Y-you know?”

   Taken aback, Ignis stammered, “But, don’t you want your photos to look as good as possible?”

   Prompto seemed stumped by this. “They don’t look nearly as good without you,” he said at last, like it was so obvious that he’d had to think about how to think about it. Then he coughed and went back to cutting potatoes, and Ignis would be sure that his face had gone red if he hadn’t himself been stunned into blank silence.

   There was another pause, filled only by the sound of chopping and now the awkward whistling that Prompto seemed to think was easing the situation. And then Ignis said quietly, “Can I ask you…”

   “Eh? What’s up, Iggy?”

   “...Prompto, how… how do I look?”

   Prompto stopped chopping again and made a sound that fell somewhere between a sigh and a nervous giggle. “I - well? I - I think you look great, Iggy, I… I think you always look great.”

 

* * *

 

   “Hey - Iggy - have you seen - uh, I mean, do you know where my...?” Prompto stopped in the hotel room doorway. The camera he’d been asking after was sat neatly upon Ignis’ bedside table, but Ignis was nowhere to be found.

   Prompto scooped up the camera, glancing around curiously. “Guess I didn’t need to ask after all, huh? What’re you doin here, buddy?” He shook his head. “I’m talking to my camera.”

   The camera, thankfully, did not respond. He clicked it on and it beeped. _MEMORY FULL._ “That’s… weird…? I swear I didn’t… huh?”

   The first face to greet him wasn’t a photograph he’d taken - in fact, it was one he hadn’t seen on the little screen for a long while. “I-Iggy?”

   He was talking to his camera again, but he didn’t care - _Ignis was smiling_.

   That is, Ignis’ bottom lip and chin appeared to be smiling. The camera did not seem to have been aimed particularly well (uh, understandably)... but the next photograph made up for it, sort of, in the sense that _it_ was comprised mostly of Ignis’ nose and left eye.

   Prompto kept clicking in stunned silence as the selfies seemed to grow more confident; Ignis seemed even to be laughing in a few of them and in one he was flashing a peace sign at the lens. Or possibly finger guns. All Prompto could see was his wrist, but the sentiment was there.

   Wonderingly, he moved on to a short video. He sank onto Ignis’ bed and clicked play.

   It seemed to have been an accident. Ignis stood stock still, grinning woodenly at the camera for all of four seconds before it clicked off again.

   The next video was simultaneously little and lots better - Ignis frowned now and his thumb obscured the side of the shot as he prodded clumsily at the buttons, evidently having realised that he had somehow switched modes. The video ended as Ignis muttered, “What in the bloody f-”

   Prompto clapped a hand to his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud in delighted surprise. Short and ridiculous as they might have been, Ignis had seemed more alive in these few seconds than he had in months.

   A short cough startled Prompto into dropping the camera into his lap. He looked up hurriedly to see Ignis in the door. “Iggy!”

   “I apologise,” said Ignis, somewhat stiffly. “I think - erm, I may have filled your camera to capacity.” He coughed. “I went out to buy you a new memory card…”

   Prompto blinked, then gestured wordlessly at his camera. “You - you took… selfies,” he said lamely.

   “I hope you don’t mind,” said Ignis, and a light dusting of pink settled on his cheeks. “I realise they aren’t - _quite_ \- your usual standard…”

   “You - no. No! I mean, _yes_ \- no? I’m - of course I don’t -”

   “Prompto,” said Ignis, and Prompto fell silent. “I - wanted to apologise.”

   Prompto blinked. “Apolog- huh? Why?”

   Ignis hesitated. “I - I know I’ve upset you by refusing to appear in your photos -”

   “Dude, no!” protested Prompto. “ _I’m_ sorry, Iggy. I - guh, I didn’t mean to pressure you -”

   “You didn’t,” insisted Ignis, starting toward the bed and sitting gingerly beside Prompto.

   “But you don’t _have to be in my photos_ -”

   “I want to,” said Ignis, and Prompto stopped. “Prompto. I’m - sorry. I didn't want a record of…” He gestured vaguely at himself, and Prompto made a small noise of protest. “But that was foolish. _I_ cannot judge the quality of your photos, and I… I’ve come to realise - you all... have become my eyes. And I trust you with my life. And if you say that… _this_ … won’t detract from your photos -”

   “It _won’t_ -”

   “- then I’ll trust you on that, too.”

   Prompto opened his mouth and then closed it again. “Ig- Ignis -”

   “You don’t have to say anything,” said Ignis at once, whose cheeks were already darkening even further. “But I hope you will accept my… apology.” He gestured in the general direction of the camera, and then frowned. “You - you haven’t moved the camera, have you?”

   “No,” said Prompto, “no, you got it.” He stared down at his camera. “I - well - thanks, Iggy...”

   Ignis shook his head. “Thank _you_ ,” he said, and he smiled.

 

**Author's Note:**

> full disclosure, i was super hesitant about the perspective shift in the middle of the fic, because i know that's generally considered poor practice, but i really wanted that section in there and i couldn't figure out a better way to do it! it was important to me that i present both perspectives because i don't think the concept of the fic really works without it. so it's a little unorthodox structurally, but overall it's a decision i think i'm happy to stick with.  
> anyway, promnis is wonderful, i'm a multishipping disaster, and this game is totally ruining and also saving my life, good day to you sir.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://yuriopirozhki.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/claviclegavin)


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